London, England 1944-Underground Cabinet War Rooms

"We're at war in case you forgot," Alfred said with a touch of annoyance to Arthur. "What couldn't wait 'til after the strategy meeting?" The two men walked down the long hall plastered with maps that highlighted the progress of the war effort. Intelligence officers rushed to and fro carrying clipboards and telegrams, talking to one another creating a loud hum of English accents.

"I have not forgotten. How could I forget with most of my country demolished?" Arthur shot back.

Alfred felt a rush of guilt course through him. London had been bombed almost beyond recognition by the Germans. The image of his former caretaker hunched over in indescribable pain as each detonation brought forth a new heartbreaking screech of agony would be forever seared into Alfred's memory of the war.

"I'm sorry, Arthur. I'm sorry that I didn't help sooner. My boss wanted to stay out for as long as possible but I wanted to help-"The shorter blonde had spun around causing Alfred to trip on his own feet. He moved his arms in a pin-wheeling motion to keep himself upright.

"You bloody well should be sorry!" Arthur interjected into the tall blonde's rushed ramblings. Alfred looked down at Arthur, eyes full of remorse. The Brit could feel his face getting red as his anger was boiling dangerously close to the edge. He clenched and unclenched his fists while taking a deep, calming breath. The American braced himself for his friend's anger to pierce through that stiff upper lip. Arthur's words could hurt more than any bullet. He knew how to phrase things in a way that would reach the deepest layers of insecurity, reopen wounds, sting like venom.

"I did not pull you out of the meeting to yell at you, as much as I would like to."

"What?" Alfred asked, taken aback. In all the years he had known Arthur, living with him in his youth (which was often visited with yelling on Arthur's part and was well deserved on Alfred's), his anger was never muffled.

"You have been absolutely unbearable to be around. Ever since your government declared war and sent you over to help Francis and me you have been an ass."

"What happened to not yelling at me?" Alfred asked crossing his arms and giving the man in front of him an accusing look. Arthur rolled his eyes. "I am not yelling. I am talking firmly, now let me finish." Alfred put his hands up signaling for him to go on.

"Francis and I have been talking and we have noticed that you have not been your normal loud, arrogant self." Alfred threatened to smile for a brief second before it disappeared back into a flat affect. "You have been short with everyone and easily irritated. This has been going on for a while. During our correspondence throughout your economic depression you were, well depressed, and worn out. We thought that it was just because of your stock market crashing and your inability to provide for yourself or your people. Then the war broke out and the need for manufacturing weapons and what not was in demand, thank you for that by the way, and caused your economy to bounce back. However, even after reaching stability you still are not yourself. I know you are not sleeping. I can see the circles under your eyes. Churchill told me that he has seen you working for seventy-two hours straight, staring at paper work and maps, obsessing over something clearly. He has even rung Roosevelt expressing his concern. You have to take better care of yourself. This is not good for you."

"Okay, mom," joked Alfred. He smiled but it didn't reach his eyes.

Arthur exhaled loudly. "Wanker." The Brit turned around and continued to walk forward. "Come on. The car is waiting for us. We should have left five minutes ago, but as usual you had to be difficult." Alfred rolled his eyes and took large strides to catch up to the angry man. When he reached Arthur he was in the elevator impatiently tapping his foot, ready to close the door and ascend. The doors closed sluggishly, shutting them off from the chaos. Now the two men could be free to use their true names interchangeably; their country names.

Their true forms were only known to a privileged few in high ranking positions. For Alfred (America) that was the president, his cabinet members, and scattered military personnel. Arthur (England) was known to the Royal Family, the Prime Minister, and, again, scattered military personnel.

"England? Why exactly did you pull me out of the meeting? Are we going somewhere? Can't it wait 'til later? We were discussing how to crush Japan and his army. I don't have time to shoot the breeze. I need this to end. For my people, for all of us, for-"America was cut off by emotion. He couldn't bring himself to finish that thought. A lump appeared in his throat causing it to ache. He swallowed loudly, burying his emotions down in his chest. England reached over and put his hand on his shoulder.

"Lithuania," England finished. America adjusted his glasses and nodded. The elevator came to a shaky halt. It was another few seconds before the door opened. The two blondes exited the elevator and made their way to the doors to leave the building. The outside revealed the graveyard that was now London. Rubble was everywhere. Foundations of demolished buildings stood like skeletons. Some buildings managed to escape the bombs with minor damage; others were not so lucky. The sky was overcast, threatening to release their fury at any moment. The solider that waited in front of the car held an umbrella at his side just in case the threat became action. As the two men approached the soldier opened the door and saluted.

"Sergeant McQuillen," England said, saluting back.

"For King and Country!" he replied with vigor.

"Yes," the country replied forcing a smile. Alfred snorted. McQuillen was new to being privy of Arthur's true identity and felt he had to overcompensate his patriotism in his presence. After both men were seated in the car McQuillen headed for the driver's seat.

"You have your orders, Sergeant."

"Yes, sir!" He turned the car on and started to make his way towards their destination.

The pair sat in silence for a while. England would throw worried glances at America from time to time but the younger man never met them. He just stared out the window, hands in his pockets, fidgeting with something. England had begun bouncing his crossed legs in annoyance.

"Would you say something?" he growled.

America looked at his friend for the first time since entering the vehicle. The vacant expression was back and in the light the rings under his eyes were more apparent. "Whataya want me to say?"

"Anything maybe?" snapped Arthur. "What have you got in your pocket?"

Alfred slowly pulled out of his bomber jacket pocket a handkerchief. He unfolded it releasing a dried up flower; a ruta.

"It's the national flower of Lithuania. Toris gave it to me when he was living at my place." Alfred smiled fondly at the little plant, twirling between his fingers. "He was so excited when he saw the flower vender had some. I swear he was going to buy the poor man's whole stock. Vendor would have been happy about selling them all that quickly. Would have been an early day." He chuckled quietly at the memory. "But he just bought this one and put it in my blazer." Alfred carefully put the flower back on the piece of fabric and gently wrapped it, holding it between both hands briefly before placing it back in his pocket.

"You know it wasn't your fault, right? There was nothing you could have done to stop-"

"I could have stopped it! I could have stopped it all!" Alfred interjected, his voice getting louder. "There were signs that the market was going to crash and I just ignored them! I'm a fucking idiot!" He was getting angrier as the words flowed from his mouth. "If I hadn't been so fucking naïve and thought I was invincible Toris wouldn't be back at that damn commie's house!"

"America, Alfred, you need to calm down-"

"NO! I WILL NOT CALM DOWN!" Alfred balled his right hand into a fist and slammed it into the door. The glass cracked slightly and there was a dent in the middle of the door where his fist once was. He was breathing heavily, taking his friend's advice and trying to calm himself before more damage could be caused.

"You know you are going to have to pay for that," McQuillen deadpanned.

"I cannot take you anywhere," muttered Arthur. Then loudly, intended for Alfred to hear, "You know, if you are going to act like a child maybe I should have the Sergeant pull over and drop you off right here." Alfred cast a side glance at him. "It would be a shame too," the Englishmen sighed. "All that planning I did would go to waste." Arthur turned his head to look out the window while Alfred straightened up and looked questioningly at the man sitting next to him.

"Huh? Are you shanghai-ing me or something?"

"Oh yes, America. I am shanghai-ing you." Arthur said sarcastically.

"Well, then where are we going?" Alfred was growing impatient. He couldn't understand why his friend was shrinking off his duties as a country. Of everyone America knew, England was never one to take a personal day. He was serious about his duties to his people and dedicated to the war; working towards the end, organizing future peace negotiations. Arthur wanted this war to be over. Why was he (as the Englishmen would say) faffing about?

"We are going to my house in Windsor. There is something there for you that you will greatly appreciate," Arthur said proudly.

"Well, can I appreciate it later? We don't have time to go on holiday." The American gave the last word in the saddest excuse of a British accent Arthur had ever heard.

"You are a real bloody git! I do not even know why I am bothering to do this for you! After I risked my well-being and endangered-"Arthur was cut off by the sudden coughing fit of Sergeant McQuillen. Alfred looked at his friend with furrowed brows which was met with the response of an eye role. After McQuillen composed himself there was a brief silence between the three.

"Uh, you alright there, man?" Alfred said, breaking the quiet.

"Yes, sir. Must have just been my allergies."

"Quite right," replied Arthur matter-of-factly. He then brought his gaze back to Alfred. "Anyway, I am not going on holiday, you are." The young man opened his mouth to protest but was cut off by his friend. "Do not give any excuses! I have discussed this with Churchill and Roosevelt; they agree that this is best for your sanity. We, the Allies, know that you have been stressed about Pearl Harbor, the war in general, and your economy. We also know that you have been keeping an outrageously close eye on Ivan."

Alfred tensed at the mention of Russia. Though he was part of the Allied Powers, Alfred didn't fully trust him and it went deeper than his capitalistic tendencies versus the others communist ones.

"I know it must be tough for you knowing that Toris is part of the Soviet Union, but we all have a more pressing matter at hand. Do you really think it is wise to take on Ivan now? You will lose, Alfred, and Lithuania will be far worse than he is now." Alfred crossed his arms tightly over his chest and stared out the window. "A break from the battlefield will serve you well. The fresh air will clear your head and the surprise will renew your vigor and put your mind at ease. It is only for two days. Please just give it a chance."

Alfred's natural curiosity was beginning to take hold. He peered at Arthur from the corner of his eye, waiting for him to say more. When he didn't, Alfred decided to pry.

"Can I have a hint?"

"You are going to be exuberantly surprised," the Englishmen said with a smile.

"That's a shit hint!" Alfred slammed his hands on his lap and turned his upper half to face Arthur. "Gimme another one! Is it big? Have I seen it before? Is it another one of your Austen books because I still haven't finished the one you got me for Christmas three years ago. I really hope not. No offense but I don't really like it. Wait, did you get me decent food?!" Alfred was getting excited. Although Arthur's surprises usually never turned out well, he had good intentions and the American was indeed always stunned by them.

"How dare you! My cuisine is satisfying and filling!" Food had always been a touchy subject for Arthur (he was probably the worst cook on the planet and his nations food didn't help). Having tasted French food from Francis as a child and now preferring his own Americanized version of foods, he couldn't help but tease his friend. "I am not playing twenty questions with you either," Arthur added.

"Well, at least answer this? What do you mean by 'restore my vigor'?"

"You will see what I mean." Arthur gave Alfred a wink.

"That was really creepy, man." The Brit laughed at the response.

The rest of the ride down to Windsor Alfred begged for more hints as to what his surprise might be and Arthur replying in variations of, "Just wait and see you impatient plunker!" They arrived at the large, stereotypical English country home in just a little over an hour. A lavish garden of lilacs, roses, and wild plants, lined the house.

Arthur handed Alfred the key to his house. "I packed your things already. There is a bag in the trunk. Please try not to destroy my house." Sergeant McQuillen had already grabbed Alfred's belongings and handed them to him as he stepped out of the car. He turned back to close the car door behind him.

"You can thank me later," Arthur told Alfred with a smug smile. Alfred shut the door and, once McQuillen was back in the driver's seat, the car rolled forward.

The tall blonde took a deep breath and made his way to unlock the door. Maybe a vacation was just was he needed. He hadn't relaxed in years the incessant tide of events overwhelming him. He could possibly even come up with ideas to smoke that commie bastard!

The door opened with a loud squeak. The interior hadn't changed that much since Alfred was a kid. The only additions were new technologies that came with the passing of time. The staircase wall was still lined with pictures of him, his twin brother Canada, France and England. Fresh flowers were in the vase that Canada (really it was America) had broken on the table. The cracks from where Arthur glued it back together covered the pattern like spider-webs. Alfred placed his bag at the bottom of the stairs and made his way to the kitchen. Long car rides always made him hungry and he was in the mood for a decent meal (a hamburger sounded good at the moment). Walking past the library, he thought he saw something moving in there. Retracing his steps backwards, he entered the room.

His eyes were right; there was someone in there. The figure had their back turned away from the door. They were looking at a shelf of books, taking one out for further inspection. It was dark in the room making it hard for Alfred to distinguish who it was. The one source of light was a small sliver sneaking in between the closed drapes. As Alfred advanced, he stepped on an unleveled floorboard causing his ankle to give out slightly and catching himself with a loud thud. The figure turned around quickly and exhaled slowly. Alfred felt around for the light he knew was nearby. He eventually found it and flicked it on, illuminating the room.

"Sveikas, Alfred."

Author's Note: Sveikas= Hello in Lithuania